Stay
by Empathist
Summary: Before Stephen, before Macca, Brendan Brady ran a club owned by Danny Houston in Liverpool. Vinnie was his boyfriend, and this story in four chapters is from Vinnie's point of view.
1. A new start

**Before Stephen, before Macca, Brendan ran a club in Liverpool for Danny Houston. His boyfriend then was Vinnie, and this story is from Vinnie's point of view.**

* * *

><p><em>Something coming out of nowhere. The screech of brakes.<em>

_Blackout._

:::::::

He'd left it a bit late to get a job. Most of the other new students had sorted themselves out at the start of term, but Vinnie's plans had changed, so he was playing catch-up.

He had intended to live at home and get the bus across town each day – that was why he had opted for Liverpool Hope university – but at the last minute his mum persuaded him that she'd be fine, and he should spread his wings. He felt guilty leaving her: there'd be no-one in her corner now when his brothers and stepdad kicked off; but as she pointed out, the rows usually happened when she stuck up for Vinnie, so things might even be easier for her at home if he moved out.

First-year students usually lived in university accommodation, but Vinnie was too late for that, so he found a place in a flatshare with some second-years. And he had to find a job to make ends meet, which was why he was spending a Saturday trawling round town, asking about vacancies. He had one of the girls from his course along with him for moral support.

The nightclub they went into was a bit of a dive, but the decorators were in, so it looked like it was being tarted up a bit. Part of the bar was open that afternoon, and Vinnie asked the barmaid if the manager was around.

"I'm the deputy. Can I help, love?"

She seemed nice; motherly. Vinnie asked if she had any jobs going.

"Ah, that's the manager's department. To be honest I don't think there's anything at the moment, but if you want to hang on a sec I'll go and ask him."

Vinnie saw a man come into the bar and glance at them as he walked into a room with a door marked _Private – Staff_. The deputy manager, Debbie, told Vinnie to follow her and wait outside as she went into the room to speak to the guy. The two voices were quiet, but Vinnie could just about hear what was said.

"I've got this student here asking about a job, Brendan. What shall I say?"

There was a pause, then an Irish voice.

"The girl or the lad?"

"The lad."

"Tell him to come in."

Debbie came out and smiled at Vinnie.

"He'll see you, love. Your lucky day."

Vinnie went in. It was a small office; there were a couple of old chairs, filing cabinets, a desk. And behind the desk, the manager.

"Shut the door."

Vinnie did so and, not being asked to sit down, stood awkwardly. The guy looked him up and down; Vinnie was self-conscious, and felt himself blush. The manager smiled slightly and held out his hand.

"Brendan Brady." His handshake was what you'd call firm. "You old enough to work in a bar, son?"

Vinnie was used to this. He'd always looked young and small for his age, and now that he was probably fully grown, he'd resigned himself to being small, full stop. He handed Brendan his student card to prove his age.

"I'm eighteen, see."

"Vincent Ryan," Brendan read out from the card.

"Vinnie. Sorry, that's what everyone calls me, so..."

"Ever worked in a club, Vincent? Know what the job entails?"

"No, but... It's not rocket science, is it?" Vinnie instantly regretted being flippant – that was no way to get offered a job – but Brendan Brady looked amused for a second. And then serious.

"No offence, son, but it's not just pouring drinks and collecting the empties. There's crates to be carried, heavy lifting."

Vinnie was offended now: he might be small, but he was tougher than he looked.

"I'm asking to be a barman not a bouncer," he said forcefully, but then seeing the manager's raised eyebrow, he added quietly, "I'd work dead hard, Mr Brady."

There were a few moments' silence while Vinnie was given an appraising look. Then Brendan nodded.

"Okay. I'll give you a couple of shifts to see how you shape up, then we'll talk."

"Honest?" Vinnie gave Brendan the biggest smile.

"Honest," Brendan said.

:::::::

Vinnie's dad had left when he was a few months old, so he didn't remember him at all. His brothers were five and six years older than him, so they had some memory of their father, but none of them knew where he had gone. Some other woman, his mum thought. But it was fine, just them and their mum, for those first few years. They had no money, but it never occurred to Vinnie that they were poor. They never went hungry. The boys were a bit full-on, but they looked out for their little brother. It was always "the boys and Vinnie:" made him feel special.

When his mum got with his stepdad, something shifted. His mum wasn't in charge any more. The boys changed, with their boisterousness becoming bullying as they tried to impress their stepdad. That was the kind of thing that impressed him: tales of who they'd had a ruck with at school; passing judgement on birds as they watched the telly. Vinnie couldn't impress him, so he kept quiet and stuck to his mum. It became three against two, and the three had the loudest voices.

School was an escape, and he liked it. The boys had both left the secondary school by the time Vinnie started there, but they had a lingering reputation he could invoke when it looked like he was going to get bullied. Those kids didn't know that his brothers were more likely to join in than protect him, and so it was pretty much okay. There was always a bit of name-calling from those who suspected he was gay, but it wasn't too bad, and he made friends easily, mainly with girls.

Vinnie's mum started working two jobs when his stepdad lost his. That was when it got nasty, his mum out all the time, his stepdad at home feeling emasculated, and taking it out on Vinnie. Still, it was better that he was on the receiving ends of the spite and the shoves, if it meant his mum was spared. The boys were both in work, and they were able to contribute a bit to the family income; so when Vinnie stayed on to do A levels it was another bone of contention. And when he got his place at uni, his mum was proud but the others were scathing; his stepdad had a job again by then, so they were all able to run him down for spending another three years dossing around. It was a performing arts course, too. Couldn't have been worse.

He told his mum he would turn down his offer of a place at college, and go out to work, but she wouldn't hear of it. And she finally persuaded him to leave home. His brothers' bullying had got more blatant as they spent more of their wages in the pub, and Vinnie couldn't hide the bruises any more. _Go_, his mum said. _You make something of yourself. You'll be safer away from here_.

:::::::

He liked working at the club from the start, but it had had a bad reputation. Debbie, the deputy manager, told him that since the owner Danny Houston had brought Brendan in to manage it for him, things had begun to look up. He was a tough manager, knew how to keep the rough elements out, and they were beginning to attract a better crowd. They had an over-twenty-ones policy now – Debbie was a bit surprised that Brendan had hired Vinnie, as they'd intended the age bar to apply across the board, staff as well as punters. But still, he'd proved himself a hard worker, and after his first couple of weeks doing one evening and a Saturday, Brendan started to offer him more shifts. As many as he wanted, in fact. Vinnie was pleased that he'd impressed his new boss: Brendan seemed like a hard man to satisfy. It was just a bit awkward when he sometimes had to say he couldn't do an extra shift because of college work: Brendan was a hard man to turn down, too. He'd be cold towards Vinnie when he'd said no; the praise would stop, and Vinnie would be surprised at how much he'd come to value the occasional _Good lad_ or _Nice work, kid_.

The customers liked Vinnie, especially the girls: he'd always got along with girls. He liked to chat with them as he served them at the bar; they told him he was cute, that was always the word. _You're so cute, Vinnie_. And their boyfriends didn't mind. They could see he was no threat.

He had kissed a girl once, though – or rather, a girl had kissed him. They'd both been fifteen, and they used to go back to her house after school to do their homework together because studying was impossible for him at home, the boys were noisy and took the piss. Anyway, this girl Kelly asked him if he'd ever kissed anyone.

"No."

"D'you wanna?"

"Erm..."

They were in her bedroom, and she sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to her. Vinnie sat down. Kelly leaned in to him and planted her lips on his, and felt for his hand and placed it on her breast. He was a bit nonplussed, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her lips were soft. When her tongue found its way into his mouth, he let it, moving his own tongue out of the way politely.

It was nice. Pleasant. But now that he'd done it, he couldn't see what all the fuss was about, and he didn't mind when it was over.

"That didn't really work, Vin, did it?" Kelly said. And they got back to _To Kill a Mockingbird_.

He'd known he was gay long before then, anyhow. Briefly, he'd wondered if he just _thought_ he was, because he'd been told it so many times by his brothers, his stepdad, boys at school, even the odd teacher. But he was a realist, and there was no getting away from it. On school trips to the swimming baths, it was the boys he had to force himself not to look at, not the girls. And when he had a wank, he thought about Johnny Depp.

He had more or less accepted his sexuality by the time he grew up, but was puzzled by the practicalities. He'd never known anyone gay before, for a start, although now he was pretty sure some of the boys on his course must be gay too. But, say one of them asked him out: how would he know what to do? How would they know who was meant to do what? He felt shamefully ignorant. All he knew was, in his fantasies, he was always the one lying down while the other guy (whoever he might be) fucked him. The thought of doing it for real though, was terrifying. Terrifying and exciting.

The club didn't have a lot of gay punters, as far as Vinnie could tell; probably because it used to be fight night every night of the week before Brendan began to sort it out. But there were some fellas who came in together, usually on a Friday night; Vinnie could tell that two of them were a couple, but there were often one or two others with them too, as well as some girls. And one of the single guys had started to talk to Vinnie whenever he came up to the bar to buy a round. Then one night, when he was going for his break, the guy asked him if he would join them for a quick drink. Vinnie said yes – course he did. And they were great, really nice to him.

His break was twenty minutes long. After the first ten, he was startled by Brendan's voice immediately behind him.

"Vincent. I pay you to work, not to chat."

"I'm on my break, Brendan." Vinnie looked at his watch. "And I've got ten minutes left, so - "

"Office. Now."

Brendan stalked off. Disobeying wasn't an option, and Vinnie followed him to the office. Brendan grabbed his arm as he walked in, then slammed the door and flung him against it.

"You don't _ever_ disrespect me in front of the punters, you got that?" His hand was on Vinnie's throat.

"I never."

"Yeah you did. _I'm on my break, Brendan_," he mocked. "D'you think that's acceptable, talking to your boss like that, do you?"

Vinnie couldn't really work out what he'd done wrong, but arguing back felt like a bad idea.

"Sorry, boss."

The anger seemed to leave Brendan instantly. He let go of his throat, then smoothed down the front of Vinnie's white work shirt and straightened its collar.

"It doesn't pay to get too friendly with the customers, okay? It's unprofessional. You got that now, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Good lad."

:::::::

After that, Vinnie noticed that Brendan was watching him. He had always worked hard, but now he made an extra effort to do his job well, and was sometimes rewarded with a hand on his shoulder, a _Good lad_, an extra tenner at the end of the night.

He got a bit less paranoid about chatting with the customers, now that Brendan seemed generally pleased with him. Once, a gang of girls dragged him out from behind the bar to dance with them, and he threw himself into it; it was only when the music stopped that he realised he was being watched, but Brendan just grinned at him and rolled his eyes.

Another time, though, he was having a laugh with a couple of lads and Brendan called him out: "Oi, blondie, there's glasses need clearing."

Vinnie didn't appreciate being spoken to like that in front of customers, just like Brendan objected to him answering back in front of them. So he didn't speak to Brendan for the rest of that shift, doing what he was told but with barely disguised resentment. He wasn't surprised when Brendan called him into the office.

"What's with the attitude, kid?" Brendan stood squarely in front of him, arms folded.

"Nothing." There was a silence. Vinnie stared at the floor, but could feel his boss's eyes burning into him.

"I'm waiting."

"It's you. It's the way you talk to me, like I'm - "

"You work for me, boy, I talk to like your boss."

Vinnie looked right at Brendan then, his jaw jutting.

"I'm not a kid." It was suddenly important to Vinnie that Brendan saw him as a man, not a boy.

Brendan looked amused, and took a step towards him.

"That so?"

"Yeah." Vinnie swallowed, and added, even though he realised it sounded lame, "I'm nineteen."

"Oh yeah? Since when?"

"Since last week."

Brendan hadn't known it was his birthday, because he'd been at home in Ireland at the time, visiting his wife and kids for a few days. Debbie had bent the rules and let Vinnie have his mates from uni come to the club, even though they were under twenty-one. _Don't tell Brendan_, she'd said with a wink.

"So you're all of nineteen now, are you? All grown up."

Vinnie tutted: Brendan was making fun of him.

Then Brendan brushed Vinnie's fringe away from his eyes with his fingertips, touched his face lightly, and stroked his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Don't sulk, _kid_, it doesn't suit you."

Brendan walked past him and out of the office, leaving Vinnie wondering what just happened.


	2. Closer

_Coming to, on his back, at the side of the road. Blood on his shirt. The smell of petrol and scorched tyres._

:::::::

Vinnie's next shift was on Saturday afternoon. Half way through it, Brendan arrived and told him they were expecting a busy evening, so he'd like him to do the late shift too. Vinnie said yes - the money would be handy, and in any case, he wasn't sure if refusal was an option.

Brendan was busy: it was one of those nights when he seemed to have many short meetings with men in suits. But in between times, Vinnie was aware that he was watching him. Uncomfortable though it made him, he felt special too, because he never saw Brendan paying this much attention to any of the other staff.

It was the early hours of the morning by the time they'd closed the doors and cleared up. Brendan let the last of the staff out. Vinnie arrived at the exit late, just as Brendan was locking it, because he'd been sent to do a last check that the windows in the toilets were shut. Brendan blocked his way.

"Not you." He led the way back to the bar. "What'll you have?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Drink. Because I missed your birthday, didn't I?"

"Oh." This was weird. "Thanks."

The decision was taken out of Vinnie's hands, as Brendan was already opening a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge. Vinnie followed him across to one of the booths, and they sat opposite each other on the red leather seats. They clinked their bottles together.

"Cheers, Brendan."

"Slainte."

The cold beer made Vinnie shiver. At least, he thought it was the beer.

"You like it here, Vincent? Apart from your grumpy boss, that is."

"Yeah. I mean, yeah, I like it, not yeah, you're grumpy."

"I'm not?"

"Maybe a bit." Vinnie smiled. Brendan smiled back.

"Cheeky git."

Vinnie was amazed at how easy it felt, chatting with Brendan. Brendan talked about his kids – his pride and joy, he called them – and about his wife, and how he missed them all, but it wouldn't be fair to uproot them from Ireland: he would hardly see them even if they were here, with the crazy hours he worked. Better to fly home for a few days here and there, when he could devote himself to them fully. A long-distance marriage was hard, but he was doing his best.

It seemed like Brendan was glad to have someone to talk to, and Vinnie felt privileged that he'd been chosen, and that Brendan asked about him in return. Vinnie told him a bit about his own family. He didn't mention how his brothers and stepdad treated him, because he didn't want to come across as some weak little kid. He told Brendan about his flatmates, two girls and two guys; how the girls had boyfriends and the boys had girlfriends; how he was the only one who was single.

They had another beer, and then Brendan disappeared and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey from somewhere, and two glasses. Vinnie hadn't tried neat whiskey before, and it made him cough.

Brendan took his glass from him and went behind the bar to put some ice in it. He came back and handed it to Vinnie.

"Here. Sacrilege, putting ice in this, but we can't have you choking. Let it melt a bit. You'll like it, I promise."

Brendan's voice was like the whiskey, earthy.

Vinnie had noticed that Brendan had a habit of looking at his mouth when they spoke together, and now as the warmth of the spirit began to make his head feel floaty, Vinnie found himself doing the same. The moustache at first had struck him as a little absurd, but now that he knew him, he couldn't imagine Brendan without it. He watched as Brendan's lips met the glass, as he sipped the whiskey, as he licked his lips, as he spoke.

"You like it?"

"Sorry?" Vinnie felt his cheeks flush.

"The whiskey. Do you like it?"

"Oh. Yeah, it's..."

"One more." Brendan refilled their glasses. "Then I'm gonna call it a night. Not as young as I was."

Vinnie looked at his watch: nearly three o'clock.

"Don't worry, kid, we'll get you a taxi."

They took their time finishing their drinks, then Brendan cleared away their bottles and glasses while Vinnie went to the loo. He hadn't eaten for hours, so he felt pretty drunk, but he could still walk a straight line.

Brendan was waiting for him by the door, and as Vinnie got there, Brendan turned off the last of the lights so that all that remained were the illuminated fire exit signs.

"I've called you a cab."

"Thanks, Brendan."

Vinnie could just about see as Brendan took hold of his face, looked intently first at his eyes and then at his mouth, and kissed him.

For a second or two he was too startled to respond, but then he opened his mouth and reached up to put his arms around Brendan's neck, and let it happen. So this was what all the fuss was about: this was how a real kiss made you feel.

Brendan's moustache felt oddly cold, his stubble scratchy. His tongue came into Vinnie's mouth, first behind his teeth, then in front of them as he took Vinnie's top lip between his own. They parted for a moment, a little out of breath, and then came together again. Again, Brendan's tongue entered Vinnie's mouth, but this time withdrew straight away. Vinnie wasn't sure if he was meant to reciprocate, but he wanted to, and he could feel that Brendan's mouth was open, so he tentatively slid in his tongue. It must have been the right thing to do, because Brendan sucked on it and met it with his own, and from deep in his throat came a noise of pleasure and approval.

A car horn sounded, making them both jump.

"That'll be your taxi." Brendan unlocked the door to let him out. "Happy birthday, blondie."

:::::::

Vinnie's next shift at the club was one evening in the week, and Brendan barely acknowledged him. He almost began to feel as if he had imagined what had happened here in the early hours of Sunday morning. That kiss. His first kiss, apart from the practice one the girl at school had given him. There was no way he had imagined it, though: he could remember every detail of how it felt and tasted; Brendan's hands in his hair.

It was the same the next evening: Brendan spoke to him only to give orders. What if that was it, that was all there'd ever be? If Brendan regretted kissing him and would never do it again? What if Vinnie hadn't been good enough to make him want to do it again?

When he saw Brendan go into the office, Vinnie took his chance and followed him in.

"Brendan?"

"Vincent." Brendan was searching for something in a filing cabinet.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Dunno. Have you?"

"I don't think so, but you haven't hardly said a word to me since you - "

Brendan whirled around, grabbed Vinnie's arm and flung him across the room onto a chair, then stood over him.

"If I wanna talk to you, I'll talk to you. If I don't, I won't. That too complicated for you?"

Vinnie shook his head. He watched Brendan leave the room, and sat for a minute trying to make sense of things. Brendan had pushed him around before, grabbed his wrist or his hair. But it was no worse than he was used to at home; it was different, that was all. His brothers did it for fun. His stepdad didn't hit him, but shoved him around and was spiteful, because he despised Vinnie. The three of them were lumbering and thuggish: his stepdad had a beer gut and the boys were heading that way too; they all had dirty fingernails. Brendan was different, he was sleek and fiery. And he did it for a reason, to make a point; to punish Vinnie when he'd done something wrong, or just because he couldn't help it when Vinnie made him lose his temper, like now. It was a matter of working out what rule he'd broken to deserve it, and doing his best not to make the same mistake again.

He was wary of Brendan for the rest of that shift, but at the end of it Brendan gave him an extra twenty quid for working hard. It was confusing.

:::::::

On Saturday, it was quiet on the day shift. Brendan was in a good mood, joking around with the staff. Vinnie was still cautious around him, and had resigned himself to the idea that the kiss had been a one-off, that for whatever reason, Brendan had decided to forget it ever happened.

Then as he stood wiping the bar down in a lull between customers, he sensed Brendan behind him, and felt his thumb running down his spine, slowly and firmly as if he was counting the vertebrae, and then hooking into the waistband of his trousers.

"You're doing a good job there, kid. Keep it up." And then he was gone.

Did Brendan think that he could stand that close, and touch him like that, and radiate sex at him through every pore, and _not_ give him an erection? It wasn't fair. He had to serve customers now, and hope they wouldn't notice the bulge in his pants; and there was Brendan, the other side of the room, looking very pleased with himself.

Vinnie went out into the yard in his break for some fresh air.

Brendan brought him out a coffee.

"You okay, son?"

"You shouldn't do that."

"Oh yeah? What exactly shouldn't I do?"

"You know. What you just done, Brendan. While I'm working."

"Okay. I'll have a look at the rota, make sure our hours don't clash," Brendan said, and made to go back inside.

"No!"

"No?"

"No. I just meant..." Why was it always so confusing with Brendan?

"You mean, you don't want me to touch."

"Yes."

"You _do_ want me to? Make up your mind, blondie."

Brendan strolled back to work, leaving Vinnie unsure whether he'd just given Brendan the come-on or the brush-off.

It turned out it was the former, when Brendan cornered him in the store room at the end of his shift, pushed him against the door, and kissed him. It was different this time, rougher, like he was being devoured; and Brendan felt for Vinnie's cock, which instantly stiffened. Brendan let go of him and stepped back.

"Okay kid?"

"Yeah, sound."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Vinnie laughed – he didn't really know why, but Brendan smiled back at him, then touched the skin around his lips.

"Stubble burn. Sorry about that."

" 'S'okay."

"Good lad. Here." Brendan peeled a twenty off a roll of notes and stuffed it into Vinnie's shirt pocket. Vinnie was outraged, and it must have shown on his face, because Brendan frowned at him.

"Fucksake, Vincent, did you think..? Come on, seriously?"

"Sorry, I just thought - "

"You thought that kiss was worth me paying twenty quid for?"

"No, but..." Vinnie felt flustered, and blushed.

"It's okay, I'm messing with you." Brendan paused. "I need you to buy some lube."

"What?"

"Lubricant," Brendan said slowly. "Yeah?"

"What, for you?"

"And you. That okay?"

Vinnie felt out of his depth, but his heart raced with excitement. Only, the thought of going into a shop and asking for it...

"Can't you get it, Brendan?"

"I've got a club to run," Brendan said coldly. Then, more gently, teasing, "You don't have to go into a sex shop, kid. They sell it in Boots."

Vinnie was doubtful.

"Look, I'm thinking of you, not me." Brendan flicked Vinnie's fringe off his face. "Trust me, you'll thank me for it."

He moved Vinnie away from the door and walked out.

"Brendan? When do you want me to..?"

Brendan turned back and smiled.

"When you're ready."

:::::::

How had that happened? Vinnie couldn't work out how the fact that he was going to sleep with Brendan had become established, so that the only things left to discuss were the details. Who would buy the lubricant. _Lube_. He had never even thought about a thing like that, and the more he thought about the whole idea in the next few days, the more ignorant he felt.

He hadn't even known that he fancied Brendan, not until that first kiss; and then he'd realised that he'd felt it for weeks. All the time he'd wanted to impress him, it wasn't just because he was his boss, or because he was scared of his disapproval; it was because he wanted Brendan to like him back. It was just, he hadn't for a second guessed that the guy was gay. Or bi, or whatever he was. And by the time he knew, he was already too far gone to resist.

:::::::

"Been shopping?"

Vinnie hadn't heard Brendan come into the staff room behind him as he put his things in his locker at the start of his shift. He guessed Brendan had spotted the Boots carrier bag.

"Yeah."

"Coming back to mine after work?"

"Yeah."

:::::::

Brendan picked Vinnie up at the back of the club and drove them to his place. It was a small block in a nice area; Brendan led the way up to the second floor, and they went into his flat.

To Vinnie, it looked sophisticated: he'd never seen anyone's home so uncluttered. Brendan got them a couple of beers; Vinnie managed to drink it, even though his stomach was churning. When he thought about it afterwards, he couldn't remember a single thing they'd talked about, but they must have chatted while they drank.

Vinnie went for a pee, and when he came back, Brendan pulled him towards him and kissed him. He felt as if he was melting against Brendan's body, and the next moment they had somehow arrived in the bedroom. He stood and let himself be stripped, then Brendan stepped back and looked at him, and then took off his own clothes. Vinnie had never seen a naked man before: he'd seen boys in the showers after swimming, back when he was at school, but you couldn't really look, and anyway they were nothing like this. Brendan looked so _adult_. Adult-rated, even. His body couldn't have been more different from Vinnie's own. His cock looked enormous, and it wasn't even fully erect yet. It was intimidating.

Brendan stopped looking at Vinnie's body, and looked into his eyes, and held his face, and kissed him softly.

"You alright, Vincent?"

"Yeah."

Brendan led him to the bed.

For a while they kissed, and Brendan's hands caressed him. Vinnie didn't know what he was supposed to do, so he did nothing, and Brendan eventually took hold of his hand and brought it to his cock. Vinnie tentatively began to stroke, and felt it harden and swell.

Brendan sat up and put on a condom, and took the bottle of lube from the bag, which he must have brought into the bedroom while Vinnie was in the bathroom. He pumped some onto his fingers, laid Vinnie on his back, slid his hand between his legs and began to smooth it onto him. Vinnie had never felt anything like it, as Brendan's fingers circled and rubbed and gently pushed into him. His muscles tensed involuntarily, but Brendan was patient, and kissed him, and slathered on a lot more lube; and climbed onto him and bent Vinnie's knees up, and slowly began to enter him.

"That okay?" Brendan asked.

Vinnie nodded, and Brendan must have taken that as the go-ahead, because things got a bit fast then and Vinnie panicked and struggled.

Brendan withdrew rapidly. He looked shocked.

"Jesus! Fuck. I thought you were ready. I asked you, didn't I?"

"Sorry. Sorry Brendan." Vinnie felt embarrassed. He had wanted it to happen, but the reality of it had shocked him.

"It's okay. I forgot you were... I'm sorry, kid, yeah?"

Brendan wrapped Vinnie in his arms and held him tightly.

"You can always stop me," Brendan told Vinnie quietly. "You don't have to be scared, not when we're..."

Then he got up and called him a taxi.


	3. An education

_Sirens. Voices._

_Opening his eyes._

_A paramedic: a woman around his mum's age, holding his hand, squeezing it._

:::::::

Having sex for the first time had been traumatic, and Vinnie didn't want to do it again. It wasn't Brendan's fault – he'd just got carried away in the heat of the moment and went too fast, forgetting that Vinnie was new to this – and both of them had been a bit freaked out by Vinnie's reaction. Brendan didn't push things at all after that, but they did other things, staying behind in the club together after closing time.

When Brendan went down on him, Vinnie thought it was the most astonishing thing that had ever happened to him. The warmth and wetness of Brendan's mouth around him, his tongue playing, pressing, tickling; the sensation of slipping into his throat and feeling it constrict as Brendan swallowed to squeeze him tighter; the way in which what was happening to his cock fired straight into his head, making it pound and fizz like nothing ever had before. He followed Brendan's example and tried to do the same to him. It felt impossible at first, but he kept trying, and Brendan kept encouraging, and he got the hang of it and began to like it: liked the effect he could have on Brendan. Even though he was down on the floor on his knees, it made him feel powerful in a way that he wasn't used to.

Soon, Brendan's body became familiar to him, and less daunting, and Vinnie started to long for Brendan to take him home with him so they could go to bed again. And eventually, after three or four weeks, Brendan did. This time Vinnie knew what to expect, and somehow they seemed to have tuned in to each other, so Brendan judged things better, taking his time and finding a pace that Vinnie could cope with. And it was fine. More than fine: it was amazing, as if Vinnie's body had decided to let it happen and stop fighting it. He could tell that Brendan was holding back; and he knew that in future, he wouldn't need to, and Vinnie wouldn't want him to. Not any more.

With a few decisive strokes of his cock, Brendan made Vinnie come at the same time as he did; he seemed relieved that it had been okay this time, and held him for a long time afterwards. That was amazing too.

:::::::

It was an unusual kind of relationship. It was a secret, for a start, but that was the price you had to pay for seeing a married man. Anyway, it wasn't as if Brendan was leading him to think they had a future; there were no promises made. It was what it was on any given day. Brendan blew hot and cold, and sometimes when he blanked Vinnie and acted like he was just his employee, Vinnie couldn't work out why. There was usually a reason: like, if there were people around, or the time when Brendan's wife and children came to stay with him in the school holidays. Brendan had warned him about their visit, thrusting a bag at him at work one night, that contained all the stuff that Vinnie kept at Brendan's flat: toothbrush, razor, change of underwear. Vinnie understood then that he had to steer clear, but it hurt him when Brendan seemed to make a point of kissing Eileen in front of him when she called into the club. Still, it didn't look the same as it felt when Brendan kissed him: Brendan's hands never strayed from her waist; he didn't look hungry for the taste of her.

Other times, Vinnie went home at the end of his shift wondering what he'd done to make Brendan cold-shoulder him, and unable to come up with any answer other than that he wasn't good enough.

Most of the time, though, things were good. Now and again, Brendan took Vinnie back to his flat after work, and they'd fuck in the double bed, and then Vinnie would leave while Brendan showered or slept, and get a taxi home. He'd learnt not to outstay his welcome, preferring to go of his own accord before Brendan told him to. If Brendan was asleep when he was leaving, Vinnie would kiss him on his cheek or his lips or his bare shoulder, so lightly that Brendan wouldn't stir.

Once in a while, though, Brendan would tell him, _Stay_, and they'd sleep together all night, and Brendan would cook breakfast in the morning. He'd pile their plates high, and Vinnie would struggle to get through it, while Brendan wolfed down his own: _You wanna get some meat on those skinny bones, kid._

More often, they'd stay behind in the empty club. Vinnie would look at Brendan during his shift, hoping for a sign that he'd want him that night. Vinnie couldn't make the first move; he'd learnt that very early on, when he'd stood too close to Brendan and spoken to him in a way that, if anyone had happened to glance at them, might have looked intimate. Brendan had ordered him into the office, grabbed him by his hair, and told him that if he ever did a thing like that again he'd regret it. So he knew to wait for Brendan to look at him in that way of his, or to say something to him discreetly, and he'd know he had to give the other staff some reason why he wouldn't be heading for the bus stop with them.

And as soon as Brendan locked up, they would fall on each other. They might kiss for a bit, then pause for a drink and a chat, and then make love. Or they'd drag each other's clothes off straight away, and fuck urgently on the red sofa in one of the booths.

Once, after Vinnie had spent the night at Brendan's flat and had just got dressed, he told Brendan that he loved him. Brendan lashed out with a punch that sent him flying.

"Fucksake kid, what's the matter with you? What, you think we're a couple of queers, is that it? I'm married, for chrissake."

Vinnie was only winded, but didn't dare get up in case Brendan hit him again; and when he came towards him, Vinnie shrank away, which seemed to shock Brendan out of his anger.

"I'm going to work. Let yourself out when you're up to it, yeah?" He slammed the door and was gone. Vinnie got up from the floor and curled up on the bed. Maybe Brendan was right, and whatever Vinnie felt for him wasn't love: he'd never been in love before, so how would he know?

:::::::

That punch was no worse than Vinnie had had from his brothers over the years, so he got over it. And Brendan was never sexually violent, not deliberately: he was passionate, and Vinnie always seemed to have bruises, but Brendan never made him do anything if he didn't want to. That wasn't Brendan's style; what seemed to turn him on was making Vinnie want him, want whatever he wanted to do with him, want it desperately. There was a lot of biting though, hard enough to hurt and to leave livid purple marks. Vinnie got angry about it once.

"Ow Brendan, that bloody hurt!"

"Ah, c'mon, you like it don't you?" Brendan tried to make light of it, but Vinnie wasn't in the mood.

"It's not funny, Bren. Why d'you have to do it?"

"Maybe it's because you're so fucking perfect," Brendan snapped, and Vinnie looked at him in amazement.

Thinking about it later, it did seem possible to Vinnie that Brendan had meant it. There had been two or three occasions when Brendan had looked at him, saying nothing, just examining his body and limbs gently with his fingertips as if he was some precious artifact. When they had sex after those times, Brendan always seemed slightly disturbed, and Vinnie would be left with a bite or a bruise, as though Brendan needed him to be marked, marred.

Neither of them ever again mentioned what Brendan had said, even when Brendan once bit so hard into the skin of Vinnie's shoulder that it bled.

:::::::

Danny Houston came into the club occasionally. He owned the place, but he and Brendan went back a long way, so he seemed content to let Brendan manage it without interference. They were friends, Brendan and Danny, but Vinnie could tell that Brendan was wary.

One evening when Vinnie arrived for his shift, Danny was at the bar having a drink while he waited for Brendan.

"You been working here a while now, haven't you, son?" Danny asked.

"Yeah."

"Brendan a good boss, is he?"

"He's sound, yeah."

Brendan walked in then. He seemed unsettled when he saw Danny and Vinnie together.

"You distracting my staff from the job, Danny boy?"

"Just taking an interest, Brendan. I'm sure you do the same."

Brendan steered Danny into the office, then left him there briefly, and Vinnie saw him have a word with Debbie, the deputy manager. She then came over to Vinnie.

"Vinnie, love, we won't be needing you tonight after all."

"How come?"

"Don't worry, you'll still get paid. But Brendan said you can get off home."

"Is it something to do with Danny?"

"I couldn't say. But he's not a nice man, Vinnie, and I think maybe Brendan... Well, he'll have his reasons."

Vinnie wondered if Debbie suspected that he was Brendan's boyfriend. He went home, uneasy and puzzled.

Brendan never explained, and Vinnie knew not to push it with him, but he stayed away from Danny as much as he could.

:::::::

Being with Brendan was an education. That's what it felt like to Vinnie.

He learnt not to expect anything from Brendan, because he was so unpredictable. He learnt how to behave in public: not to get too close, or look at him for too long, or touch him. Not to do those things in private, either, unless he was sure that Brendan's mood was good and permission was granted. He learnt to be available – if ever he turned down a shift because he was going out with his mates or had something to do at uni, Brendan would punish him with coldness next time he saw him, and when they had sex again it would be without any kissing until Brendan forgave him. There was a possessiveness in him that made Vinnie withdraw from his social life; college commitments were just about tolerated, but the only person Brendan was relaxed about him seeing or even talking to on the phone for any length of time, was his mum.

Vinnie learnt about sex. He learnt that fast and hard could, after all, be fantastic. That sometimes pleasure and pain were so tangled up together that you couldn't tell which you were feeling, so what you had to do was _decide_ it was pleasure, and believe it, and it would become the truth.

He learnt that slowness could be incredible too, and that a breath-light touch on your neck, say, or your tummy, or the inside of your thigh, could start a shockwave that rippled over your skin from your scalp to the soles of your feet, that made you gasp, and laugh, and ready for anything. He learnt that if he concentrated on Brendan and forgot himself, Brendan could get inside him more easily and more deeply, and would be more satisfied and tell him, _Good, good boy_, and hold him afterwards and give him kisses.

He learnt that it was fun to tease Brendan sometimes. He liked to sit on his lap, his back against Brendan's chest, Brendan's cock all the way inside him; and as he bumped up and down he'd listen to the noises Brendan made against his neck, the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. And he'd stop, just to hear Brendan's groan of frustration, and twist around for a kiss, and not carry on until he got one. It could go either way: if Brendan was in the mood to be manipulated, he'd give him a kiss; if not, he'd slap Vinnie's thigh, hard enough to leave a red mark, to make him get on with it. Either way, Brendan got what he wanted.

Vinnie learnt too that he loved Brendan. Maybe when he'd told him so before, at the beginning, it hadn't been true even though he'd believed it at the time. But he was twenty now, and as the year had gone by he had become sure of it.

He loved the way Brendan looked at him sometimes, his eyes smiling, knowing the secret they shared. He loved the back of Brendan's neck when he'd just had a haircut, the skin pale and exposed, the razored line of the hair blunt against Vinnie's fingertips. He loved it when Brendan had washed his hair in the shower, and it was free of product and silky to touch; and the feeling when Brendan combed his fingers through Vinnie's hair too.

Being a teenage dad had stopped Brendan going to college, but somehow he'd educated himself and not let it stop him getting on; he looked after his family, and he was always the cleverest man in the room. Vinnie loved those things about him.

At first he'd hated Brendan calling him "Vincent," but he'd grown to love that too: it felt like something special between the two of them, something that stated that he was Brendan's.

He loved the snuffling sounds that Brendan made when he was on the cusp of consciousness and sleep; and he loved it when Brendan seemed to be asleep but would drag Vinnie towards him and hold him close.

When Brendan didn't shave for a day or two, Vinnie loved the way the stubble blurred the edges of his moustache, and how the moustache grew softer if it wasn't trimmed. But he also loved looking in the mirror when his face was pink from the stubble and the tache, and remembering how the soreness had got there as he soothed it with cream.

He loved to feel his way down Brendan's body, loving how the hair on his chest thinned to a narrow line down the middle of his tummy before it spread out around his belly-button and thickened darkly around his cock. He loved the sensation of Brendan's cock in his hands, heavy and hot as it hardened; more, he loved to see it coming to life without a touch, just on the strength of Brendan relishing the sight of him. He and Brendan would look into each other's eyes then, Vinnie's desire and anticipation being mirrored in his lover.

He loved to feel Brendan's lips on the small of his back; Brendan's thumbs parting his buttocks; Brendan's tongue descending, teasing, tasting, penetrating; Brendan's teeth nipping his bum if he wriggled too much. He loved the sureness of Brendan's hands.

After they fucked, after Brendan got rid of his condom, when they lay together lazy and exhausted, Vinnie loved how Brendan's cock would lie inert against his thigh, benign and softly vulnerable.

:::::::

It was late at night, and the last of the staff had gone. While Brendan went to lock the door, Vinnie got undressed and waited for him in their usual booth. Brendan laughed when he saw him so eager, and kissed him gently.

This might be the time. Now that Vinnie was sure. He looked up at him, his hands on Brendan's chest.

"I know you don't want me to say it, but - "

Brendan shook his head in warning.

"Vincent, don't."

"It's okay, Bren. It's not a bad thing, it's a good thing." Vinnie had a feeling that he was going to regret it, but he'd come this far. He swallowed. "I'm in love with you."

He hit the floor. It was hard and cold and sticky with spilled drinks, and he looked up and Brendan was there, aiming a kick at his stomach which made him cry out in pain. Vinnie heard Brendan walk away, and then immediately come towards him again. He scrambled to get away, but Brendan just threw his clothes at him.

"You had to, didn't you? You couldn't keep your stupid mouth shut." He paused. "You're okay, yeah? Course you are. Get dressed now and I'll get you a cab."

As he fumbled to put his clothes on, Vinnie heard Brendan phoning for a taxi.

He sat down, leaned over to do up the laces of his trainers, and let out an involuntary yelp at the crunch of pain in his stomach. Brendan came to him and knelt on the floor.

"Let me." He tied the laces. Vinnie could see that his hands were shaking. "There you are."

"Thanks." Vinnie wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.

"Hey, don't... You'll be okay. Once you get home, you'll be fine. Good lad."

Brendan helped him up and out and into the taxi, and gave him some money for the fare.


	4. Loss

_**Final chapter**_

* * *

><p>When Vinnie was due at work for his next shift, he rang the deputy manager and told her he had tummy trouble and wouldn't be in. Debbie believed him – he was a hard worker and had never been off sick before – and anyway, it was kind of the truth, because his stomach killed him when he stood up straight, and he couldn't lift anything.<p>

Debbie rang him the next day to say she'd spoken to Brendan and it was fine, he should take as long as he needed, and he'd be paid for his usual shifts while he was off. Brendan must have been feeling guilty about what he'd done to him.

He'd been off work for nearly a week when he got a text from Brendan at nine-thirty at night: _Vincent. Gone home for good. Sorry. BB._

He couldn't process it. He tried to phone Brendan, but the number rang a couple of times then went to voicemail; so he texted him, text after text, asking what was going on, was he okay? Telling him he was sorry, and wouldn't do it again, and would be better in future. He went to bed with his mobile on the pillow beside him, and lay awake waiting for an answer, but none came.

When he returned to work, Debbie was in charge. Apparently Brendan's departure had taken everyone by surprise, but Debbie had spoken with him on the phone and it seemed that he'd gone back to Belfast because his wife and kids needed him. The older boy, Declan, wasn't too well, and it wasn't fair to let Eileen cope on her own.

Vinnie knew different: he knew it was his fault, or why wouldn't Brendan answer his texts?

:::::::

Danny Houston was around a lot now, to check, Vinnie supposed, that the club was still being run how he liked it. One evening, he ordered a drink at the bar.

"Vinnie, isn't it?" Danny's dark eyes seemed to drill into him.

"That's right, yeah." Vinnie knew that Brendan had always been a bit wary of Danny, and had tried to keep him out of the guy's way. He had never really asked why.

"I imagine you must be missing Brendan, son. You being, what shall I say? A _favourite_ of his."

Vinnie didn't answer, but Danny was right: however angry he was at Brendan for kicking him in the gut when he was defenceless on the floor, it hurt more that Brendan had left him. He missed him like hell, and had spent many sleepless nights wondering what he could have done differently to make Brendan stay. He bitterly regretted being stupid enough to tell Brendan he loved him, knowing how badly he had reacted when he'd told him once before. Vinnie was doing his best to re-engage with his friends and put his heart into his college work, but he no longer felt as if his life was being lived; the colours had faded and the light had dimmed.

:::::::

Danny seemed to make a point of speaking to Vinnie whenever he saw him. It felt, from the odd remark he made, as if he knew that Vinnie had been Brendan's lover. Vinnie was sure that Brendan wouldn't have confided in him, though, so he never said anything to Danny that would confirm it. But it was nice, in a way, having someone around who knew that he'd been more to Brendan than just an employee.

One day when Danny was having a meeting with a couple of businessmen in the bar, Vinnie found his phone on the desk in the office. On an impulse, he searched for Brendan's name in its contacts, and pressed the number. He felt his heart hammering.

It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. He gave it one more try, and this time it rang a couple of times, then Brendan answered.

"Danny. What can I do for you?"

It was a shock to hear Brendan's voice.

"Brendan? It's me."

"Vincent. What... Why have you got Danny's phone?" He sounded panicky.

"He's left it in the office. I knew you'd answer if you thought it was him."

"What do you want, Vincent?"

"I... I just wanted to hear your voice, Bren. I don't know why you left like that, without telling me. I just need to know, Brendan, it's eating me up. You never said goodbye."

"I texted you." There was a pause, as if Brendan knew this wasn't sufficient. "It wasn't you, it was Eileen and the kids, they needed me home."

"_I_ need you too, Brendan." Vinnie listened to Brendan's breathing, hoping he would say something, but he didn't. "Can I come to Belfast? I'll get a job, somewhere to live. I won't bother you, I promise I won't, but I'll be there when you want me."

"For fucksake! You stupid little bastard, it's not gonna happen. Don't come here, you got that? I don't want you, Vincent, not any more."

There were voices outside the office door.

"I think Danny's coming back. I've got to go."

"Watch out for Danny," Brendan said quickly, urgently. "You don't want to cross him, d'you hear? There's no-one there to protect you."

"It's okay Bren, he seems to like me."

"Even so - "

"It's him, Bren, I'm going." Vinnie felt as if he had nothing to lose any more by saying it: "I love you. I really love you."

He ended the call, and just managed to delete it from the log before the door opened and Danny came in.

"You alright, Vinnie? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Only then did Vinnie realise that his face was wet with tears.

:::::::

Months had passed since Brendan had gone. Vinnie was doing his best to come to terms with the loss of his lover, but he was struggling. He knew there was no hope, since Brendan had told him bluntly that he didn't want him any more; and living without hope was hard. He felt sad all the time.

Danny's visits to the club had become less frequent, now that it was obvious that Debbie had everything under control, but one evening he came in to spend a couple of hours in the office going through the books.

They closed early on Sundays, and Danny emerged from the office as the last of the punters were leaving.

"Mind if I keep you a bit longer, Vinnie? Only I might want a bit of fetching and carrying while I'm here." Danny must have noticed his reluctance. "I'll pay you, of course."

Vinnie agreed: why not? He had nothing better to do after his shift, not now that Brendan wasn't here.

The fetching and carrying turned out to be making cups of tea for Danny, and looking for things in the filing cabinet, and filing them away again when he'd finished with them.

Vinnie was sitting in one of the booths – the one in which he and Brendan used to fuck in the early hours of the morning, when it was just the two of them in the world – awaiting his next instruction, when Danny came out of the office and sat down opposite him.

"I'm done, I think. Thanks for your help tonight, Vinnie." He took two twenty pound notes out of his wallet, and put them on the table.

"Cheers," Vinnie said, and reached for the money, but Danny slid it away from him.

"Thought we'd have a little chat."

Vinnie swallowed, and waited for Danny to continue.

"Did I mention, I had a little bit of business in Belfast a while back? Popped in to see Brendan while I was there. You know, have a bit of a catch-up."

"Yeah? He okay?"

"Fine, by the look of him. Well, he would be, wouldn't he, being back home with his lovely wife."

Vinnie didn't look at Danny, but he knew his reactions were being scrutinised.

"Anyway," Danny carried on, "Just thought I'd fill you in. You and our Brendan being... _close_."

"I've gotta go now," Vinnie said, and got up, but Danny got hold of his wrist.

"Stay. I haven't finished with you yet. Sit down."

Vinnie sat. He was frightened now, and waited to hear what Danny wanted to say to him.

"I bet you know a trick or two, don't you, Vinnie?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, put it this way, Brendan don't usually want his little pieces of arse to stick around for more than five minutes. So you must've done something a bit special. Y'know. To keep him interested."

Panicking, Vinnie got up again, but Danny grabbed him and pushed him back onto the seat, then sat next to him to block his exit.

"Lively one, aren't you? That what Brendan likes, a bit of cat and mouse?"

Vinnie didn't answer. He felt sick with fear.

"He obviously didn't keep you for your conversation."

"Can I go now, please?"

"Did he ever tell you, I did a bit of time in prison?"

"No. Why would he?"

"Dunno. Pillow talk maybe. Anyway, yeah, it was a misunderstanding, my brief got me out after a few weeks. But while I was inside, there was this fella in with me, an old associate, you might say. Owed me a bit of money, he did, so d'you know what he offered me by way of payment?"

"No."

"He offered me a go on his boy."

Vinnie tried to scramble over the table to get out, but Danny was too strong for him and yanked him back onto the seat. Then he carried on in the same conversational tone.

"I didn't fancy it at the time. Not really my cup of tea. But I've wondered about it ever since, you know? I mean, a bloke like Brendan: pretty little wife at home, a club full of girls at work, but then a scrawny little boy like you comes along, and he just can't stop himself. So you can see why I'm wondering, Vinnie, what I been missing out on."

This time when Vinnie made a break for it, he made it over the table, but Danny tripped him up as he ran past him towards the exit. He crashed to the floor and was dazed for a moment, then Danny picked him up and pushed him face down onto the table, holding him still with a hand in the middle of his back.

"Like it rough do you? That why Brendan liked you so much?"

Danny tried to tug Vinnie's trousers down with his free hand but couldn't, so he turned him over onto his back and started to undo them. Vinnie knew this was his last chance. He gathered all his strength and slammed his knee between Danny's legs. Danny staggered backwards, clutching himself.

As Vinnie ran for the emergency exit, he heard Danny shouting after him.

"Fucking little... You just made a big mistake, Vinnie! Big mistake."

:::::::

He'd never been scared of Brendan. Not _really _scared. Brendan had knocked him about and hurt him too often, but he was predictable in his unpredictability, and whatever he was, he wasn't a rapist.

Vinnie had never in his life felt safer than he felt on those few nights at Brendan's flat when Brendan had told him, _Stay_, and he'd fallen asleep in his arms. Nights when Brendan would wake him up again and they'd kiss, warm and sleepy in the dark, and after a while Brendan would roll him onto his back and fuck him slowly, lazily, and stay inside him when they'd finished, smothering and protecting Vinnie with the weight of his body. Mornings when he'd open his eyes and see Brendan, and Brendan would seem to sense him looking, and pull Vinnie towards him, and pull the cover over them both.

Vinnie's head on Brendan's shoulder: safest place in the world.

:::::::

When he went in for his next shift a few evenings later, Vinnie was worried that Danny might be there, but Debbie told him that he'd gone back down south. Even so, Vinnie was glad to get out of the club and into the air at the end of the night, and head for home.

:::::::

_Something coming out of nowhere. The screech of brakes._

_Blackout._

_Coming to, on his back, at the side of the road. Blood on his shirt. The smell of petrol and scorched tyres._

_Sirens. Voices._

_Opening his eyes._

_A paramedic: a woman around his mum's age, holding his hand, squeezing it._

_"Can you hear me, sweetheart? We're here now, we're here to look after you, alright?"_

_Thinking, _Yeah_, but the word not coming out of him._

_"I need you to stay with me, love, okay? Just stay with me."_

_Trying to speak. Trying to ask, _Why_?__ If she would just give him a reason. _

_If he could just think of a reason, then maybe he'd want to fight the longing to fall asleep, resist the darkness that was coming for him. _

_If he could just think of one reason to stay._


End file.
